Gods Save Us All
by Lady of Dov
Summary: A Skyrim parody. The adventures of Alec the adolescent Dragonborn as he journeys to save the land of Skyrim with the help of his companions: Faendal, Farkas, Marcurio, Cicero, and Meeko. Rated M for adult language only.
1. Prologue

_This will be the first fan fiction that I've published and first full-length parody novel that I've written. This story will loosely follow the Skyrim plot-lines and, in much fewer cases, canon as you'll see in this chapter._

* * *

It was the the 201st year of the 4th Era on the 17th of Last Seed, a Tirdas, at exactly 6:07 in the morning when the greatest tragedy to ever befall Tamriel occurred.

It was in a country called Skyrim, a land known for it's pleasant snow during the winter season and generous- who'd have guessed- unpleasant snow throughout the other three- as well as it's poor taste in bards. Skyrim was more unhappy a place than usual at this time due to a civil war- which oddly enough could have ended years ago were both sides willing to reconcile their mutual hatred of the Thalmor- but that is another matter entirely. For in this land, where things were already in a state of Bad, things were actually about to get terribly Worse.

The dragons were awakening form their routine slumber, bringing their threats to creation with them: take all the wealth, burn everything, kill everyone, enslave what's left, go back to the cave and have a nap, etc. The dragons, having no need for gold, slaves, or naps (after having slept centuries already), were still working to develop their reason for committing these atrocities. And despite the long (perfect) winning streak of mortal-kind and the dragonborns against the dragons going back as far as Talos, the fact did nothing to quell the fears of mortals nor the dragons persistence in trying to eat everything. The dragons did quite notably leave 'kidnap the princess' out of their carefully planned agendas this time around though.

To save them from this senseless violence, Skyrim needed the dragonborn. _Tamriel_ needed him, for with out him, Alduin the World-Eater would er- eat, you know... the world.

It needed a hero- a _manly_ hero. Of manly mind and of manly strength- so manly that all the world would tremble before his legendary _Manliness_ (except for the women who would be laughing at their shaking men.)

And that is exactly what they got.

At 5:59 that fateful Tirdas morning, the most manly, masculine, he-man ever crafted by the gods- the Dragonborn of legend- arrived in Tamriel mounted upon his great white steed. With his shining armor glistening in the golden glow of the rising morning sun, beaming it's praises upon this finest specimen of masculinity, he was indeed a great sight to behold- or at least it was assumed so, had anyone been there to see it.

The Dragonborn surveyed the land from were he was mounted upon his steed at the top of a mountain knowing that this was Skyrim, the land he was called to save. From there he commanded his horse to continue forward, guiding the beast as it slid down the mountain in the majestic manner that only the Great Dragonborn could.

Now it should be mentioned here that the horses of Skyrim, for the fact that the fundamental rules of physics simply do not seem apply to them, have been named the Nineth Wonder of Tamriel (some refute this, claiming there can only be eight- but this is for a different time). Thus, they have the uncanny ability to scale up the most impossible slopes while hauling the most unbearable burdens and slide down the most uneven and steep angles without their hooves ever needing to make sensible contact with the trying surfaces.

It is such a baffling and awe-inspiring power, in fact, that many cannot help but find it comical.

Alas, it was at exactly at 6:06, seven minutes after the Dragonborn's arrival in Skyrim, that a heavy mist fell over the very mountain he slid down, effectively cutting off his vision three feet in all directions. This in itself was not an issue for the mighty Dragonborn who, being quite experienced in these sort of situations, slid down onto his destiny. No, it was the distant and high pitched scream of a woman several moments later that caused the incident.

Acting upon his highly tuned hero-reflexes, now triggered by the distressed-damsel stimuli, the Dragonborn tugged the reigns of his horse in the direction of the scream. After the reflexive response faded and his thoughts returned to him, the most manly of men realized his mistake and swiftly jerked the reigns back in the direction he had originally faced to correct it. But the hooves of his horse had already lost all contact with the surface of the mountainside by then. It was too late.

No god could have saved the Dragonborn when he started the fall which would end his life from a staggering height of 6 feet and 3 inches- (though some historians would later debate that it would actually had to have been 6 feet and _5_ inches two have caused the severity of the injuries which were recorded). And that is how the Dragonborn, the only hope for Tameriel, succumbed to the number one leading cause of death in all Skyrim.

~|*O*|~

What happened thereafter this tragedy has been a topic heavily debated over by thousands of scholars, historians, priests, and statisticians the world over.

You see, despite the pressing need for an answer to the great query, it seems that no one could figure out the reason for why the gods- with all their power and wisdom- would take what was already a Bad situation made officially Worse by the death of the Dragonborn and make it, well, Worse-_er_.

Was it some deadra trick? Was it some unforeseeable fluke out of the gods control? An incident of divine miscommunication? Divine inebriation?

The Dunmer would say it was Boethiah's doing. The Imperials would be too busy counting their gold to reply. Khajit would blink and ask if you going to purchase something or not. With the Nords it was still a topic far too emotionally upsetting to bring up. And Altmer, the Thalmor in particular, would go into a twelve and-a-half hour long historical-analysis evaluating everything from the first era to the present while kindly sharing their commentary at every illusionary correlation, half-truth, or over-exaggerated fact. In conclusion, they would state that it was just another incident proving how desperately the gods needed to start obeying their wise council.

To put it plainly, by addressing the peril Tamriel was facing in having no Dragonborn, it would seem that the gods had decided to have him replaced. Yet why- out of the thousands of skilled Nord warriors, wizened mages, and over-glorified thieves nestled all throughout Skyrim- they chose _Alec_ was anyone's guess.

All one could say surely was that now the fate of all Tamriel rested within hands of a 14-year-old Nord chef for the Imperial Legion, who of which the only thing that could be deemed remarkable was his admittedly impressive list of fears ranging from jesters to carrots.

Skyrim was as good as fucked.

* * *

_As I mentioned this parody will be loosely following the original Skyrim plot-line. I'm doing this in hopes that, by leaving you all with less an idea for what will happen next, the result will be a stroy that is more funny and interesting._

_I'd also like to mention that have been using **The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Saga** by **Douglas Adams'** as my "textbook" of sorts for this story. No, it does not mean that I'll be COPYING the series in any way. I simply mean that I looked to it for advice on comedic deliverly and how to use comedic devices. The flow of the series already matched well enough with my natural style as it was. That said, I'll still be making the story my own way but every now and then making something of a parallel to the saga which has helped me so much with writing this- you'll see what I mean in a later chapter._

_I love to hear feedback on my works and would appreciate anything you have to tell me. **Please review! **_

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 1: Not a Great Day

"Your name?"

"_My_ name?"

"Uh, that's what I just asked you for, wasn't it?"

Alec sighed.

He didn't like to be negative, but Alec couldn't deny that today wasn't exactly turning out to be a great one. The boy didn't want to think so- Pa had always told him that he was a few octaves short of being a whiny girl, you see. Regardless, the boy was sure that being sentenced to a beheading had to count as a less-than-good-thing to have happen to you. And an even worse way to clock-in for the work day, as it was for Alec. Yes, the boy was positive that beheading was definitely a bad thing.

Alec should have just stayed on the rabbit farm with Pa. Sure, getting the rabbits out of the ground alive on time was difficult, but it was when he joined the Imperial Legion that his _real_ problems started.

The boy recalled his last words to Pa, when he told him that he was going to join the Legion.

_"Gah!" Pa had shouted, slamming his morning tankard of mead on the table after seeing his son standing in front of him with his packed knapsack for the second time in his life now._

_"Now, don't tell me yer' gonna' try runnin' off to that- that- magi's castle, again!" he had sighed._

_"Pa!" Alec replied nervously, shifting himself, embarrassed._

_He continued quietly, "It was the Mage's College in Winterhold- and we promised we weren't ever gonna' talk about that again!" he finished, trying to keep the sob out his voice._

_His father grunted, flailing his arms as if to wave something away, "Right-right-right! Fair enough. Okay, so what's this," he gestured to Alec, "about then?"_

_Alec straightened himself, "I'm leaving to join the Legion!" He lifted his chin in the most assertive and dignified fashion he could muster, one his mother would have thought absolutely adorable._

_Pa did a completely over the top spit-take, coughing on his mead. He leapt over to his son, grasping him firmly by the shoulder. He shouted to his only son that he couldn't go. That he knew he was always hard on Alec- but that the boy didn't have to go and get himself killed to impress him. The boy was all he had left, for crying out loud!_

_Alec, who had been trying to speak over Pa the entire time, finally managed to get his father to hear that he wasn't joining the Legion to fight. Pa blinked, processing what Alec had said._

_"I am joining to be one of the Legion's chefs," he continued as Pa returned to his seat at the table, sighing._

_Pa waved his hands again in dismissal, "Yeah- yeah. Just go have fun, or whatever. And this time- eh- try not ta'... blow anything up... again."_

_"_PA_!" Alec said looking around embarrassed._

_"Sorry, just go already before they break down my door and drag you out!" The recruiters were actually discussing doing just that where they waited outside the house._

_"Bye, Pa!"_

_And those were Alec's last words to Pa._

_Once Alec was gone, Pa pulled out a copy of his prized essay, _Alduin is Real_, to admire it as he often did. As he stared at the refined peice of literature, he reclined back in his wooden chair. _

_He sighed, "Boy won't last three days." _

And Alec didn't.

In fact, he lasted _four._ Four full days.

But as we have said, these days of service in the Imperial Legion weren't nearly the best days of our Alec's young life.

For example, on his first full day as a Legion chef, he was abruptly awoken and told that he was being called for mandatory target practice that morning. He had ran to the commanding officers tent in a panic right away. The cook wasted no time in recounting to his superior all of the rather embarrassing reasons he- Alec the chef- should not be taught to aim a bow. It just wasn't worth the casualties or law suits- especially the loss of good and proper arrows! The commander laughed and pat Alec's shoulder, reassuring him that they were now using non-combatant personals to substitute as practice dummies for reasons having to do with budget cuts.

"Oh," Alec said, wiping the sweat from his brow, "that's good, because for a moment I thought- wait a minute." And cruel reality dawned on him.

The second day was much the same, except Alec was rotated to dummy-duty for the soldiers' sword practice (the Legion always aimed to ensure that all members of their militia left with a well-rounded experience). He still had to cook in between sessions, of course, meaning that life in the Legion was rather exhausting for the former-rabbit farmer.

The third day, he carried out his standard cooking responsibilities while additionally filling in dummy-duty for the horses. These creatures were horribly out practice, though, and managed to land every blow on poor Alec unlike the archers and swordsman who were so blessedly skilled at missing.

On the fourth day, however, he was again abruptly awoken early in the morning. This time they woke him just after midnight, very early indeed. When he asked why they were only giving him five minutes of the hour-long sleep he was promised, it was explained to him that he was needed for a special job today. One that required plenty of time in order to complete. The assignment was to go out in the fields and collect thistle branches to replenish their heavily depleted stores; quite a daunting task. He was told to be back by noon with 50 fresh branches- and not a branch less.

Alec set out right away, determined to complete the assignment and show his fellow Legionnaires just what this farm boy was capable of. Then by six or so in the morning, when Alec had tucked his 49th thistle away in his pack, he spotted the last bush he would need to visit across the clearing. But as he neared the little bush, he became increasingly suspicious that he was also approaching a Stormcloak camp. When he nealt before the plant, he could see that he was in fact feet away from an enemy camp.

Long story short: Alec's attempt to sneak by them and retrieve the last little branch failed when he stepped on a wee baby snake, effectively killing it. Distressed at having destroyed such young life, he screamed a high-pitched, 'help-me', woman scream. (This was the same scream that caused the untimely death of the Dragonborn of Legend moments later.) Every solider in the Stormcloak camp and Imperial camp a half-mile away awoke with a start. All donned their armor, brandished their swords, and rushed to aid the distressed damsel, hoping she would she be pretty. The Stormcloaks arrived first, looking around wildly for a maiden while completely unaware of the frantically screaming Alec they surrounded. One of the horses, having his wits about him, _did_ take notice of the boy. Knowing the right and proper thing to do, the horse brought his mighty hoof down on the boy's head, assuming it would put the wretched lad out of his misery. But having built up an endurance to this abuse the day before, Alec was only knocked out. The Imperials then arrived.

The next thing Alec knew, he was bound by the hands on a cart with strange men. He had woken up shortly after the cart was driven over the remains of a poor fool- a _manly_ poor fool, mind you- splayed out in the middle of the road. One of the men, Ralof, looked at him pointedly.

"So you're the little shit that started that ambush."

Alec looked all around him to see a horse thief and a big, gagged Nord man glaring silently at him.

But it wasn't all that bad, Alec knew. He tried to think on the bright side. Ah, yes. After having to face those arrows and blades, he could _almost_ say that he was entirely unafraid of them now. A little longer, he thought, and I'll be crossing them off the List for sure! Maybe even tomorrow... Oh...

Alec sighed remembering where he was now, bound by the hands, and likely not going to have a tomorrow.

"But you know me, Hadvar!" the boy whined. "Remember you don't need to ask for my name!"

"Ah, yes," Hadvar said brushing the end of his quill on his chin thoughtfully, "You were the little girl that made the rabbit stew for breakfast a few days back, am I right?"

Alec nodded.

"And then those rabbit haunches for dinner?" Hadvar continued, words quickening with excitement and a slight smile growing on his face.

"Yes, sir!" Alec beamed.

"That huge platter- the one that was piled higher than me with steaming rabbit haunches?" The smile in Hadvar's voice was now obvious to anyone who cared.

"That was me!" Alec was now visibly shaking with excitement.

"And it was Alyce, if I heard right?"

"Alec, actually."

"Okay," Hadvar murmured, "Alllllllecccc..." he wrote on the parchment he held.

Once he was finished, he looked back up at Alec.

"Alright, then." He grinned, "Sorry for that inconvenience, but now that we have your name on the list we can get you in line for the chopping block. Thank you for your cooperation. Have a nice day! _Next!_"

Alec looked at Hadvar, aghast.

"What?! You're still going to kill me?! B-b-but you know me!" he cried.

"I know a lot of people." Hadvar shrugged, "Take that guy over there," he pointed to a large blonde glaring back at him, "Ralof. Childhood friend of mine. Grew up together in a little ditch called Riverwood. By the way, how's your sis' doing, Ralf?"

"Still supporting the rebellion," he puffed defiantly.

"Oh, well in that case we'll be sure to stop by her house next."

"Dick."

"Whoa- whoa!" Alec shouted. "This guy is your friend, but you're still going to kill him!"

"Look, little girl," Hadvar sighed. "You don't enlist as a soldier in some civil war so you can make friends."

Hadvar yawned. Then continued.

"You do it so you can kill them. If you're with us, you're safe. If not- "

"But I'm _with_ the Legion!" Alec protested.

"But more importantly, you're on the _list_. See? Now if you don't mind, we are trying to be efficient here. Next! Ralof, check... Whiny horse thief guy, have you down right here... "

Alec thought he was going to cry. They had been leaking already, but after they chopped the first guy's head off, the water works sprang out full-force. Not because his life was about to end, but because he didn't understand something.

Why weren't they killing him; Ulfric, the Killer of Kings, first? It just seemed so much more sensible to get it over with as soon as possible. What were the chances that he would even be in an enemy camp so close to theirs? Or catch him so easily, for that matter? They were just gonna' take their time with this? He couldn't fathom why.

The executioner cursed, shouting that the blade was not ready yet.

A man called Tullius cursed. "Alright, Ulfirc must wait a little longer then. The axe must be properly wetted if it is to go through his neck with the most efficiency. Long standing tradition with the Imperial Legion. Don't question it. Now, who's next... "

"Sire," a woman called. "Perhaps that girl over there will provide lubrication sufficient for the blade with her blood and tears."

"Bring her here, then!"

It wasn't until the Legion soldiers began escorting Alec to the chopping block that he realized they had been talking about him.

As he laid his neck on the chopping block, he thought about how this was the worst day ever. He thought about his short fourteen years of life. He thought about his Ma. He thought about Pa and fondly recalled all the times he had said he was a sissy girl. He thought about all the friends he had imagined up in his early childhood. About his three darling goldfish- Dill, Chives, and The Business- which he accidentally killed over-feeding the next day. He thought about the Mage's College. He thought about the rabbits. Their soft fur. About his four days in the Legion. He thought about the List.

He thought about the axe over his neck. He wondered why it hadn't fallen yet.

Looking up, he saw that the executioner, the prisoners, the soldiers, and the citizens were all gone. Well, actually they were all still there. Just running around the whole place screaming.

Alec wondered if it was rude to think that sort of behavior was strange.

Still sitting on the ground, he pondered why they all had to be in such a panic.

Just as he was assuming that it must have been because some jester had fallen from the sky, a big black dragon swooped down breathing fire on the village of Helgen, which had been burning already. (The village, as he would find out later, apparently went up in flames as if of its own accord seconds after the dragon landed.)

The dragon landed by Alec, roaring in the young lad's face.

As the whole scene unfolded before him- the bellowing dragon, bodies of the fallen lying everywhere, people fleeing for their lives every which way, the loud fires amid the smoke, ash, and charred ruins- Alec could think of only one thing.

_They all thought he was a girl!_

* * *

_Special thanks to **timeywimeyspaceywacey** for all her help and feedback! Without her honest commentary before-hand, I would never have published this parody. _

_Another thank-you to **Douglas Adams** whose **Hitchhiker's Guide Saga** really helped me figure out all this funny business. Rest in peace._

_**Please review!**_


	3. Chapter 2: Choice

_So this one is going to be pretty short. Way too short. It'll just show a little more of Helgen. _

* * *

As Alec fumed over his realization, the dragon stopped roaring fierce-somely. The beast, Alduin, blinked. Something was wrong.

Alec looked at the large, black monster staring at him. "Hi," he said uneasily.

The beast continued to stare, upsetting Alec. Did he have something in his teeth?

"Zu'u Mindok Fin Rah Lost Lahvraan Osos Rinik Tiiraz Aanne Fah Morokei Hunne Us, Nuz Daar Los Aan Munax Ahraan Wah Dii Kah." Alduin finally said.

"Uh..." Alec replied, "I don't speak Pyandonean. Sorry."

The dragon shook his head. What the hell was Pyandonean? Oh, no. He had to leave- and _now_.

Alec watched the beast as it took to the air and got up from the ground, deciding it was time to leave himself.

He was having a hard time figuring out where to go, though, what with all the carnage and destruction around him. It was all so confusing. But, to his delight, he spotted two people who could hopefully give him some directions.

Ralof and Hadvar had been trying to encourage people to follow them out of the felling village and keep once the mayhem started. One of the strategies they utilized involved smack-talking the other with embarrassing, scandalous, and sometimes even true stories. Regardless, their heated and very personal competition came to an errupt halt as soon as they spotted Alec making his way towards them.

"No- no! Follow him!" they shouted at the boy.

Alec sprinted towards the two, Ralof really. The large Nord cursed when he saw the catastrophe-on-legs making his way towards Him.

_Damn it!_ He thought, wasting no time at all in trying to evade the 'little shit' he knew was following him.

"Yeah, that's right. Follow that guy!" Hadvar cheered.

Alec, having no idea what was really going on, believed that both men had actually been vying for the young chef to join them.

"_You thought I was a girl!_" he shouted at Hadvar as he ran into the keep after Ralof.

* * *

_Truth be told, not long after the content showed in this chapter, I suddenly had a hard time maintaining my sarcastic mind-set. Maybe if I didn't want to skip us out of Helgen after this passage, things would be different... I know and can relate to how much we all LOVE reading Helgen introductions, so I decided to cut out of it asap. Hopefully, I can get my sarcasm back and have another update for you all soon enough! I will update though!_

_About Alduin's dialogue in this chapter... I am intentionally not translating any of it for you. I believed having you guys translate it yourselves would make the effect of what he said stronger once you learned what it was. I would recommend going to this site, wiki/Lore:Dragon_Language, first. Then, wiki/Dragon_Language, for the rest of it._

_Thanks to everyone for their favs, follows, and reviews! They mean so much to me! _

_Special thanks to __**timeywimeyspaceywacey**__ for all her help and feedback! Without her honest commentary before-hand, I would never have published this parody._

_Another thank-you to __**Douglas Adams**__ whose __**Hitchhiker's Guide Saga**__ really helped me figure out all this funny business. Rest in peace._

_Thanks for reading and __**please review**__!_


	4. Chapter 3: Faendal

_I'm sorry for the long wait, everybody. I had a hard time figuring out how I could structure the ideas I had for the next few chapters in this update while still keeping them funny. A solution was long in coming, but I feel the results are worth it. I'll make sure my updates are more frequent from now on._

_Thanks to everyone who has taken time to read this parody! It means so much to me._

* * *

"Thanks for letting me take the day off early, boss," Faendal said after dropping his final work-day's load of firewood before Hod's feet.

"I really appreciate it," he went on, "with the _guest_ I've got at home now and all. Someone's got to take care of them and make sure they can find the outhouse- you know how it is. I _have_ told you about my guest, have I?"

Hod remained silent as he sat slumped in his chair in front of the Sleeping Giant Inn, three dozen empty mead bottles littering the ground around him.

Of all his current ailments, the worst was his terrible, pounding head-ache. Hod knew another swing or two from his mead bottle was all he needed to end the pain, but his body was just too exhausted, even a little sore. If he weren't too beat, he would have told Faendal that it was the end of his work day as it was, and that, yes, he had told him about his recent house guest- let's see, seven... eight... nine... _forty-three times_ today!

He couldn't even muster the strength to groan out in exclaimation of his pain. All he could do at the moment was sit zombie-like in his chair while the tears flowed without restraint and silently pray to Arkay that he would now take him away from his suffering because, dear Talos, it was too much. It was just _too_ much.

Ever since dawn cracked over Riverwood, the wood elf got right off to his daily routine of talking to whoever would listen- which was no one- until he went down to bed. Today was different. Today, Faendal had apparently found some boy in the middle of the woods as he hunted in the dark hours of morning and- as the story went- saved him from a rabid deer. He had brought the boy to his house to let him recover from the traumatizing attack. And Faendal, never having had a house guest before in addition to finally having something to tell others about for the first time in decades, was excited. And when Faendal was excited, he talked- even more than usual.

From the moment the elf showed up to start his day of work at the woodmill, he had chatted away at Hod ceaselessly about his guest. No matter how many times Faendal told someone this same news, he somehow seemed to conveniently forget doing so afterwards. And no matter how many subtle hints he dropped, dismissals from work he granted, "okay, I got it now"s or "shut the hell up, already"s he shouted, Hod just couldn't make the elf stop chattering. The woodcutter just went on bragging _my guest, this_ and _my guest, that-_ like he did now.

Hod could have avoided this altogether. He could have been just like everyone else who got to flee to their homes and close their windows when Faendal greeted them. But no, he had to go work the mill, like his wife commanded. So instead he had to be put through an immobilizing torture no amount of mead could quell.

It was when Hod was midst the final stage- the one of peacefully accepting the end- that a miracle happened. Faendal finally left, going off to check on his guest. Still immobile, Hod started to sob; he had been saved.

From that day on, Hod was a changed man. He became devoutly religious, abandoning his love of the drink and never failing to leave daily offerings at every one of the nine shrines he would soon place in his home.

~|*O*|~

Faendal made his way home feeling on top of the world.

He had a guest, incase you didn't already know.

Faendal was a nice guy, but- unfortunately for him- a nice guy of the _idiot-no-one-can-stand-dies-a-virgin_ sort. Just to give you an idea.

There were _other_ things that you could say about him, though... things that were good. Come on, there had to be.

He was the village huntsman, for starters, and every morning he brought in a freshly killed deer... But this wasn't entirely impressive when you considered how long deer would take to respond to process danger when it was spotted half the time... if they didn't run off immediately towards the hunter.

Let's see... Uh, the Bosmer's wardrobe exhibited his fine taste for only the latest fashions of the day... from a half-century ago. But even if they weren't the hottest, most happening threads and they were a size or several too small for him- they made a statement to his charming... awkward, poor country guy qualities. And that was cool, _right_?

Erm. Well, Faendal rocked a unique hair-style; sporting a head impeccably shaved save for the small patch of gray hair at the back of his head pulled into a fetching rat-tail...

Well, he would often... Uh...

Faendal liked to... Er, when he...

Every now and then, a girl might tell him-

...

_Shit_...

Yeah, you know what- Faendal had a guest. And let's just leave it at that.

* * *

_A short introductory chapter of the first of our protagonist's followers, Faendal. What do you guys think of him so far?_

_Looks like he and Alec have a few things in common as far as social inadequacy and being oblivious to nobody liking them go. I think they're gonna' be best friends!_

_I've been very pleased to hear that you guys have found Alec such an adorable lil' chap. I hope you continue to think of him that way as the story goes on._

_Thanks to everyone for their favs, follows, and reviews! They mean so much to me!_

_Special thanks to __**timeywimeyspaceywacey**__ for all her help and feedback! Without her honest commentary before-hand, I would never have published this parody._

_Another thank-you to __**Douglas Adams**__ whose __**Hitchhiker's Guide Saga**__ really helped me figure out all this funny business. Rest in peace._

_Thanks for reading and __**please review**__!_


	5. Chapter 4: Ignorance is Bliss Pt 1

_Anybody wonder about what happened to Alec? We'll be finding out in this chapter._

* * *

"You have a _mammoth tusk_?" said Alec, his amazement evident in his voice.

"Yup," Faendal replied as he set out lunch for two on the shoulder of his fireplace.

"Great story, actually; how I got it. I was prowling the tundra surrounding Whiterun for sport. That's when I crossed paths with a few giants herding their mammoth. I managed to steer clear of them, but they ended up forcing me to head north where I found the most majestic mammoth skull you'd ever lay eyes on. So I just plucked a tusk out that beauty and set straight home with it."

"Whoa," Alec breathed wide-eyed.

"_Totally_." Faendal agreed.

"So," Faendal started once they had begun eating, "Alec, what brought you here to this little rock on the riverbanks we call Riverwood?"

Alec took a swing from his tankard of milk and sighed. "It's a long story."

"I like long stories," Faendal encouraged.

So Alec told his host everything, Faendal never once breaking his legendary laser-gaze as he listened. He retold all that occurred from the moment he left the rabbit farm to join the Legion to the point where he was being taken to Helgen on a cart with Jarl Ulfric.

"You were on a cart with Jarl _Ulfric Stormcloak_?" Faendal asked. "I didn't even think he took hired carts like we do."

"Well, we weren't on a hired cart exactly. We were on some Imperial one or something. They were moving the captives from the ambush to execute them."

"Oh... Wait, you just said you were at Helgen. Wasn't Helgen destroyed in that dragon attack a few days ago?"

"Is that what they say happened? From what I saw, the village had caught on fire because of that really bad fire-storm. The dragon just looked like he was shouting for everyone to evacuate. Too bad he only spoke Pyandonean. I don't think anyone understood."

"I see. So how did you get out?"

"I made made it out with this guy, Ralof. We made a great team, I had thought."

"That's cool."

"Yeah, it's just that- well, I can't shake the feeling that he maybe- _he didn't like me_."

"What gave you that idea?"

"Well..."

When they had sprinted through the barracks, Ralof wouldn't stop for him, so Alec had to hustle as he dug through the equipment for anything to help survive all the crazies lurking about. Sure, Stormcloaks and Imperials were enemies and all. But you'd think that when a meteor shower was tearing the place to the ground people could put aside their differences and not stall their escapes with unnecessary combat. Alec definitely needed to have some sort of protection from people with anger management issues of that scale. Faendal agreed with this indefinitely.

With how quickly Ralof was managing to leave the room just walking, the boy had to settle for grabbing a large knapsack and stuffing it with whatever shiny things he could get his hands on as he followed. He hoped that he would be able to equip himself with whatever he had as the two made their escape.

Eventually Alec had donned a piece of iron armor- the chest plate of which having to have been meant for a horker more than a person. This he decided once he had it on.

"Aww, and I thought this would fit differently when worn," Alec sighed.

"What?" said Ralof, snappishly. "Did you just think that it would magically fit once you had it on?"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"So, he may have been short with you," Faendal said, "but that doesn't really mean that he didn't like you."

"That's just the thing; he wasn't just being short with me. Sometimes it felt as if he was trying to get rid of me."

Like when they tried sneaking past that bear. Ralof had told him to charge it, so he could frighten it into running away. Alec had thought that sounded like an unusual way for a bear to react, but he had never hunted one in the past- so what did he know? The bear must have been a brave one, because it didn't flee when Alec ran towards it screaming. It just swat him across the cave ("_Harsh_," Faendal had said) and went back to napping. Alec felt rude.

"I tried," Alec said, shrugging.

"Yeah," Ralof muttered.

And before then, Alec had been finding it weird how Ralof would stay back while the boy took on all adversaries they crossed on the way out alone. Had he been trying to get rid of him? No, he thought. Everybody loved him. How could anyone not like Alec the chef?

"I just think you're being over-sensitive."

"So, you don't think he was trying to..."

"Not at all. You did say that he was a soldier, after all, right? Maybe he was just testing your mettle in battle, like a mentor or something."

"Yeah! I guess that I did have some making up to do after that ambush," Alec said nervously.

It made sense to him now, he guessed. The warrior's irked mood was only because the boy had acted so stupid. Alec could understand that. Ralof was also probably trying to build up the boy's strength by making him carry all that stuff too.

"Well, there you go," Faendal said, taking a swig from his milk tankard.

Alec and Ralof had gone separate ways then, both making their way to Riverwood. For two days after that, Alec had wondered aimlessly. Weighed down by the amount of things he was carrying and simply lost thanks to his aversion to traveling the roads. Something just felt... boring about it.

At some point in the dark of that second night he had decided to find a nice place by the side of a road, eat, huddle inside of his roomy chest-plate and call it a night. That's when he heard the rustling.

"That deer?" Faendal asked.

Alec nodded. He was just about to devour his dinner when he had heard it in the bushes, watching him. He dropped the food and began to shake. He was as good as a fat pheasant, seasoned and impaled on a spit thrown in a room full of house cats. There he was; just a hungry boy, lost and alone in the woods where deer lurked everywhere, and who knew how well they managed anger at night?

"Hello," he had whimpered. And when the silence of night was his only reply, he had asked it again.

He knew it was time to panic then. They were after him, he knew it. The deer were out for blood. His blood.

He had chased them around as a boy. He just wanted to play with them and had no one else at the farm. He would try to get them and ask, but they just kept running. He didn't know he was scaring them. Nobody was ever scared by him.

He had quietly gasped at the sound of more rustling.

"H-hello?"

At that moment, the head of a deer burst through the bushes.

Alec had launched himself out of his iron chest plate and into the air.

"I'm sorry!" he screamed, "I'm sorry!"

He booked his sorry ass away from the deer as fast as he could manage, leaving his iron armor and belongings behind. He ran five feet before tripping on a rock and plunging face-first into the ground.

"A few seconds later I heard you asking me for some food," Alec told Faendal.

"Thanks for that, by the way. I was starving, man."

_So was I_, Alec thought.

"Do you usually huddle on the ground like that when deer are around?" Faendal asked.

"I don't know, hunger just makes me more anxious than usual."

"Ah."

Faendal knew what happened from that point. Alec had pointed him in the direction of his meal, asking him to leave afterwards as he thought the elf was a deer. One thing led to another and the next thing the Bosmer knew, he was being begged by the pitiful boy to save him from the angry deer. He was going to tell the little weirdo that deer didn't hunt people, they hunted saber cats, when he took a second look at the beast. The thing's beady little eyes were looking at the kid point-blank with the oddest focus as it slowly grazed. It was pretty creepy, he wasn't going to lie. So, Faendal did as any model citizen would, and granted the wish of the boy begging him to kill the deer the way most kids begged their mommies and daddies to kill a spider.

He brought his axe down on the deer, killing it. Alec lifted his head thanking the wood elf before fainting at the sight of blood on the axe.

After a moment of deliberation, Faendal decided that with the way that deer looked at him, that it would have been wrong to leave him out in the wilderness alone. So he went to work bringing Alec, his belongings, and the deer back to his house.

"You did all of that for me?" Alec asked.

"It took a few trips, but I got it done."

"Thanks, man. I really owe you one for saving my life and all. If there's anything that you ever need me to get done for you- well, you'll always have me get it done for you..."

"Uh..." he went on, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

"What is it?"

"Well, it's just that… uh. Well, you didn't tell anybody about what happened did you? You know... With the deer and the blood and me fainting and all of that, right?"

"No, of course not!" Faendal exclaimed.

"Oh, okay," Alec laughed nervously. "Because if anyone ever found out it would be real embarassing, you know."

"Wouldn't I imagine," Faendal said, trying to laugh casually, but just ending up laughing as nervously as the boy he was seated with.

Everybody in town and their dog knew.

Faendal cleared his throat, desperate for a change of subject.

"Actually, if you really mean it, I do have something for you to do for me."

"Anything, buddy."

"Well, there's this girl, Camilla..."

* * *

_Ah, and now we begin "The Lovey Letter". What do you guys think is going to happen? (Don't think too hard, now.) Next chapter we'll be finding out!_

_Well... Alec definitely has an interesting take on the whole Helgen incident. (I was originally going to have him mistake Dov for Italian- since it was funnier- but thought that something like Pyandonean worked better with it's relevance to Tamriel.) But as far as I have heard, he's not the only dragonborn out there who hates to travel the roads. Though I do wonder what he was thinking when he was trying on a piece of armor 10 times his size. In all fairness, my little Breton manages to fit in any armor shes finds- regardless of the thug she pulls it off._

**_Now that this chapter is posted I meet the requirements to become a beta. Now accepting requests!_**

_Thanks to everyone for their favs, follows, and reviews! Reviews mean so much to me and never fail to make my day!_

_Special thanks to my beta, __**timeywimeyspaceywacey,**__ for all her help and feedback! Without her honest commentary before-hand, I would never have published this parody._

_Another thank-you to __**Douglas Adams**__ whose __**Hitchhiker's Guide Saga**__ really helped me figure out all this funny business. Rest in peace._

_Thanks for reading and __**please review**__!_


	6. Chapter 5: Ignorance is Bliss Pt 2

_I am still trying to find a good day for up-dating this story. When would you guys like it updated?_

* * *

Camilla Valerius was undeniably the love of Faendal's life and the object of his deepest and most sincere affection. He wasn't shy about telling anybody and everybody about his feelings, and anybody and everybody wasn't shy about telling him to go home, loser. He wasn't shy with telling people about his fervid hatred of Sven- his only rival in winning the heart of the maid- either.

So the wood-cutter left nothing out when he explained the situation to Alec. Once he was done explaining the stalemate love-triangle to his new found friend, Faendal went into an in-depth description of his plan to earn the girl's love once and for all. He elaborated every detail of each phase of the plan, being sure to go over possible mishaps and what Alec should do in the event of it. Alec tried to listen, but just couldn't get himself to absorb all the information that was being thrown so quickly at him in an hour's time. He got what he hoped were the major points: deliver a letter to Camilla and tell her it was from Sven and... that was it.

As it turned out, Camilla had been married to Sven for about eight years by now. Oh, and they had two kids; six year-old Hedgar and little Minnie, who was four.

Faendal was in denial about all these things, though. How he managed it was a mystery to everyone and a damn pain to Camilla.

Sven was quite unbothered by the whole thing- even by how often Faendal visited his wife while he was gone. One only had to remember the wood elf's place in town to understand why Sven didn't feel threatened in the least by the fool's frequent alone time with his wife. And Camilla, having realized that there was nothing she or her husband could do about his visits to Sven's home or his constant yammering, decided years ago that she might as well benefit from this somehow. There wasn't a day were Faendal visited and wouldn't be asked to sweep, cut food, dust, mend clothes, wash the laundry, or do whatever chore that was needing to be done. And Faendal, unable to move beyond the shelter of his delusional bubble, was of course all too happy to have his feelings exploited by Camilla.

That didn't mean the woman was welcome to having her children interact with the Bosmer and had made it a rule to stay away from "that strange wood-elf, his mind's not right." Naturally, that only made Faendal their favorite prank victim, as well as Hedgar's favorite target for rock-throwing.

Right then, Camilla was in her home mending one of Minnie's dresses which had mysteriously ripped while she was placing a bucket of water over "nobody's" door. Her husband had decided to stay home today (something about the elf and a damn house guest), and was sitting by the fire reading some book. She had found it odd that Faendal had not yet visited today and was beginning to hope that he might have gotten himself cut in two on the sawmill or that he had choked on an apple bite- or that a bear invaded his home and ate him!

There was a knock on her door.

Perhaps she had been hoping too soon.

She went to open the door and was surprised to see a strange boy looking up at her. The top of his body was soaking wet like he had dunked his head in the river and was dripping all over her porch.

"A really romantic love letter from Sven the bard." He said in a manner that wasn't _at all_ un-casual as he handed a piece of parchment to her.

"Thank you," she said, taking the letter. "Uh, if you don't mind me asking; why are you dripping wet?"

"Oh. Yeah, Faendal said that happens sometimes," he smiled.

Er, right... Well, thank you for delivering this." She shut the door on the boy.

"What was that, honey?" Sven asked.

"Oh, just Faendal up to his usual shit." She held up the letter.

"Hmm, and what is that letter? Number 300?"

"I don't know," she grumbled. "He's been sending them at least twice a week for the past decade."

~|*O*|~

"HeEeeey, Ralof!" Alec called as he strolled down the road that went through Riverwood. He advanced slowly thanks to the over-stuffed knapsack he carried and the battered iron armor he wore.

"Fuck." Ralof whispered, dropping his head into his hands.

"That the boy you were trying to get rid of?" Gerdur asked as she watched the little Nord near them.

"He doesn't look so bad." she added.

It was mid-afternoon and they were sitting outside the family house by the crops, wanting to enjoy the icy-warm Skyrim sun. Ralof, still recovering from some injuries, was seated while his sister removed dry laundry from the line, folding, then placing it in a basket. It had been three days since Ralof escaped from Helgen or had seen or heard from the awful boy. He had actually begun to believe that he had gotten rid of the kid for good.

Ralof harumphed, "That's what you think. Guy's a complete fool- and I can't get rid of him! It wouldn't be so hard if he could just take a hint!"

"How about, 'go away'?" His sister teased.

"Twice."

"_Oh_, you poor thing."

"So good to see you again, buddy!" Alec panted when he was finally feet away from them. He collapsed, dropping his knapsack with him- something that caused the contents to spill out over the yard. Gerdur raised a brow but was unbothered by it unlike her brother who only fumed more.

"What are you doing here, Alyce?" he spat.

"It's Alec, actually. And I'm talking to you. I thought that was obvious?"

Ralof faced-palmed while his sister chuckled.

Alec seemed to just then take notice of Gerdur and smiled flatteringly at her.

"Why, Ralof! Is this your mother?"

Gerdur's smiled fell to a death ray and she gave the towel she was folding a heafty flick. (This was woman-code for 'you're an ass'.) Insulted, she turned back to her laundry, no longer acknowledging Alec.

Ralof rubbed his temples. "She's my sister, Alec."

"Oh," he said, still oblivious. "So Ralof, now that we're out of Helgen, where d'you reckon we're going now?"

The man groaned. He couldn't tell the boy where he was really going. It was clear now that whatever he did to get the boy out of his hair wouldn't work if he always knew where to find him. No, Ralof had to think of something... something to get him going in one direction so he could make his great escape...

"Er- you know, we actually need somebody to tell the Jarl of Whiterun that there are dragons on the lose."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I do hope you find someone then."

"Alec."

"Yes?"

"I was wanting you to do it."

"Were you? Okay, in that case I'll get right off to it. I won't let you guys down, I promise!"

Alec picked up his belongs and slowly set off.

Once he was out of sight, Gerdur huffed.

"That _little shit_!"

~|*O*|~

Thirty minutes later, Alec had finally made it into the Riverwood Trader.

"So, what'll you give me for these?" he said, placing the contents of his sack on the counter.

Lucan looked at the items: two daggers, five swords, a war-hammer, three maces- all iron, 3 shields and nearly a dozen cuirasses of either iron or leather.

"I'll give you 150 septims for all of it."

"150 septims?" Alec frowned.

"Would you prefer chickens?"

"No... I just was expecting a better offer for all this stuff. I went through a lot getting it here."

Lucan was about to reply, but Faendal burst through the door at that moment.

"Did you deliver the letter to Camilla?"

Alec nodded.

"Thanks," Faendal smiled. "What are you doing now?"

"Selling all my extra stuff. I've gotta' leave later to deliver a message to the Jarl of Whiterun."

"That's cool. Will you be around long enough for dinner?"

"I don't think so."

"Look, kid," Lucan said. "Are you going to take my offer or not."

"I need you to make a better offer than that."

"Than what?" asked Faendal.

"Than 150 septims."

Faendal looked at Lucan, "Come on man, you can do better than that."

_Shit_, Lucan thought. Now he had Faendal talking to him. There was only one way out of this for him now.

"You know what, kid. What if I gave you 1,000 septims? Final offer."

"1,000 septims?"

"I can't pay you that in chickens."

"I don't want chickens! You gotta' deal!"

Alec shook hands with Lucan and left with Faendal, taking his knapsack and earnings with him.

Lucan sighed. Had he just paid a fool boy 1,000 septims for a bunch of junk-weaponry to get rid of his annoying friend?

He took a sip from his tankard of mead.

Yes. Yes, he did. And it was worth every septim.

~|*O*|~

It was twilight when Alec began his journey to Whiterun.

Faendal watched as the boy disappeared off into the horizon and checked his pack. He had his bedroll, his map, his long bow, his sewing kit, and he had his copy of _An Explorer's Guide to Skyrim_. Everything was ready, everything was prepared.

He looked back up to find that Alec had already disappeared beyond horizon.

Crap.

Recalling the deer incident, Faendal had decided earlier that day that there was no way he was going to let that kid go anywhere by himself.

"Hey, wait up!" he shouted, disappearing beyond the horizon as well.

~|*O*|~

That night in Riverwood, a great bone-fire celebration was held in honor of the hero, Alec, who had taken their village idiot away from them. Faendal's reign of terror was finally over. From now on the good citizens of the village could go to bed at night without the fear of knowing they would have to be putting up with Faendal in the morning all over again.

And that is how Alec did his first good deed for the people of Skyrim.

* * *

_Nothing like a 14 year-old wing-man to help you win the heart of your true love! ... Or not._

_Now, about Alec dripping wet and stuff. You remember Minnie and that bucket, don't you? Yeah, I had seen a little something in my head as Alec left Faendal's house to give the letter to Camilla. He opens the door, bucket falls on him, and Faendal just shrugs like, "that happens sometimes." He's supposed to be in denial about Camilla- so I imagined that would have to include the kids and what they do to him. So, what does he think causes the bucket that falls on him so often then?..._

_Alec finally has somebody to watch his back and keep the deer at bay on his adventures! But will Faendal be of any help? Will he be the only follower trapped in a bubble?_

_In fantasty novels I had always loved how protagonist's would usually have that party of six or so individuals all helping him out. You know, with the archer, and the mage, and the knight, and the priest or healer... Point is: I was really disapointed with the one-follower at a time thing in Skyrim, with the exception of animals and summoned stuff. So, if you hadn't already guessed from the summary, Alec will have his own "specialized" party as well!_

_All this talk about followers had me thinking: who's your favorite Skyrim follower?_

_Thanks to everyone for their favs, follows, and reviews! Reviews mean so much to me and never fail to make my day!_

_Special thanks to my beta, __**timeywimeyspaceywacey,**__ for all her help and feedback! Without her honest commentary before-hand, I would never have published this parody._

_Another thank-you to __**Douglas Adams**__ whose __**Hitchhiker's Guide Saga**__ really helped me figure out all this funny business. Rest in peace._

_Thanks for reading and __**please review**__! _


	7. Chapter 6: Aela is Scary

They journey to Whiterun was quite uneventful, Alec and Faendal happily chatting the whole way there. It was all unicorns and taffy treats until the ground began to shake under their feet, tripping them where they walked near Palegia Farm.

"What was that?" Faendal asked after dusting himself off.

"I don't know," said Alec as he looked around.

The two inspected all directions but could not find the source of what had shook the earth and caused such loud booming.

"Well," said Faendal. "It looks to be over, whatever it was. Shall we keep going?"

"You know it!"

The two continued on when, only a few moments after getting back up, Alec spotted a tall Nord woman marching their direction out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to, but couldn't help but feel she was looking at them. He told himself to just ignore her, but couldn't resist stealing another small glance her way.

No, she was definitely looking at them- and making her way over to them. Normally something like that wouldn't have bothered him, if she hadn't been looking so livid.

Alec cleared his throat, voice shaking, "Uh, Faendal?"  
"Yeah, bro?"

"Don't look her in the eye, but there's a big Nord lady off to our right making her way towards us and she does not look happy."

"Aw, I just think you're being over-sensitive again," Faendal turned to glance at her.

"Oh... She really is following us. She doesn't exactly look angry, though."

"_Really?_" Alec was panicking. He had an angry Nord warrior-lady making her way over to him. Nothing good ever happened when you had an angry Nord warrior-lady making her way over to you. Nothing.

They both looked over at the woman marching at them, trying to avoid eye-contact and look as if they were not aware of her.

"Okay, she's angry." Faendal sighed.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know!" Faendal was starting to panic now, too. "Just keeping walking and we'll try and ignore her. Maybe then she'll leave us alone!"

"You two!" they heard the woman call.

They both winced, bracing themselves before turning to face the tall woman.

"What the hell do you have to say for yourselves- standing around doing nothing?! Oh, we killed the giant. That problem's over with now, no thanks to either of you!"

"Uh-um... I'm sorry?" Alec stuttered.

"Oh, great another milk-drinker," she spat at them as if it where an insult, which struck Alec as odd.

Alec could do nothing but cower in fear at the woman before him while his friend cowered from behind him. He had never seen a woman weild a weapon before- this woman held a bow- and the sight did much to un-nerve him. To make matters worse, he had no idea what she was talking to him about. So now he had a crazy, intimidating warrior-lady with a weapon mad at him and looking ready to kill.

His odds were not looking good.

"Who are you?" Alec whimpered lowly.

The lady's eyes came alight with a crazy-passionate-light-of-fire thing and she suddenly looked three feet taller than a moment before. Over all, she looked pretty unstable.

"I am Aela," she announced, "Aela the Huntress, of the Companions! And who are you, little boy?"

"_My_, what great, sharp teeth you have!" Faendal cried.

"Alec," the boy whimpered. "I am Alec the chef, of- of the rabbit farm."  
Aela huffed but said nothing, and left them.

The two friends let out a breath of relief, just noticing the enormous Nord man who was standing in front of them.

"Who are you?" Alec piped, amazed with the muscly.

"Erm... I am Farkas... and I am with the Companions or... something like the Companions... we live under a boat... "

"Cool." Alec breathed. "Didn't the lady who was just here say she was a Companion, too?"

"You mean Aela... If that's what she said... "

"You're kinda' slow, aren't ya', Farkas." Faendal said.

Farkas grunted, "Some people think I'm not smart. Those people get my fist. That means I punch them with it."

_No joke_, Faendal thought.

"Oh, thanks for clarifying that," Alec said, looking shockingly serious to Faendal. "You kind of had me confused for a moment there."

"So what's it like being a Companion," he asked. "I always wanted to know."

"Erm... " Farkas blinked, "We're fighters- you know, the sort that go around and punch everybody... Some special word... "

"Mercenaries." Faendal suggested, rolling his eyes.

"I think that's what my brother said."

Alec piped in, "Are all you guys big and strong like that?"

Farkas grunted.

"Excuse me?" Faendal asked.

"That means, 'yes'. It's a Nord thing."

Faendal huffed.

Farkas grunted, "We are the strongest! Nothing like a milk-drinker!"

"That's what I don't get," Alec said. "Isn't drinking milk a good thing? My ma always told me that it would make me big and strong."

The big, burly Nord looked down at Alec.

He huffed, "I'm big and strong and I never drank milk... uh, I think..."

"Shhh- shhh- shut up!" Faendal hissed, covering the big Nord's mouth.

The elf looked back at Alec, "What the big guy means is that he, um, wished he drank milk- because he would have gotten even bigger!"

"That's not what-" the man started before the elf shushed him again.

He whispered, "I am trying to get this boy to get some nutrients! Just look at him- he looks like he hasn't eaten in weeks! Don't muck it up by telling him that you only get big by punching shit, or something!"

"But it was for me," the man scratched his head.

"Oh, what do you know, meat-mind!"

"Not much, my brother says."

The man paused for a moment, before he found what he seemed to think was a clever retort, "What do you know, scrawny?"

"_Yeah_," Alec looked at Faendal. "What do you know?!"

Aled turned his attention back to the big man in front of him, leaving his friend to stew.

He looked at Farkas, "Can I join?"

"_What?!_" exclaimed Faendal.

"You'd have to ask... You'd have to ask my brother who to ask."

"Welp, we gotta' get going now! Thank's for all the help, buddy!"

Faendal snorted.

~|*O*|~

Alec and Faendal finally approached the Jarl's throne.

"Balgruf, there are people here." Irileth said from where she stood filing her nails.

"Way to put yourself out there and intimidate people, Irileth." Balgruf muttered.

Faendal cleared his throat, drawing the Jarl's attention back to his visitors.

"Well, I'm waiting?" he said expectantly.

Faendal nudged Alec.

"Oh, right. I should speak now. Uhh... "

The Jarl raised a brow and began to drum his fingers on the arm of his throne impatiently.

"I don't know if I can do this." Alec loudly whispered to his friend.

The Jarl rolled his eyes.

"You can, I believe in you." Faendal whispered back just as loud.

Alec sighed, "Okay."

He shyly turned to the Jarl and gave his message, "A dragon has attacked Helgen."

"Well, no shit!" The Jarl spat. "The smoke from the fires could be seen for miles around. The damn thing flying all over the Gods' creation, shrieking like Akatosh wouldn't have it, didn't fail to get by us either!"

"Oh," Alec said, "well, the people of Riverwood have asked that you send them guards to help protect them."

The Jarl rubbed his temples, "Why are you bothering me, little boy? I had dispatched a group of soldiers to that village two days ago."

"Oh... Then I'll be going."

* * *

**_Attention!_**

_Tuesday the 13th, I will be publishing three new Skyrim fan fictions. Visit my profile for more information. _

_Special thanks to my beta, **timeywimeyspaceywacey**, for all her help!_

_Thanks to everyone for their favs, follows, and reviews! Reviews mean so much to me and never fail to make my day!_

_Thanks for reading and **please review!**_


	8. Chapter 7: Companions

"I can't believe we're here." Faendal said. He was quite indifferent to the Companions and visiting the famed Jorrvaskr, but it was something Alec wanted to do so he wasn't going to mind tagging along.

"I know, right?" Alec gushed. "And look, the place is a boat! A big _boat!_"

Faendal looked up at the large structure, scratching the back of his head. "I don't really see what the big deal is."

The two passed through the doors and entered the legendary Jorrvaskr. As they stepped inside, Alec's first reaction was surprise at the amount of the original ship still remaining intact. Surveying his surroundngs, he nodded to himself. Yep, this definitely was a ship once. Faendal's wasn't nearly as impressed with the interior as Alec was. He looked around, trying to see whatever it was Alec saw

"I don't get it," he said. "I mean, just look at it. I'm getting so many different messages right now. I don't know what they want me to think. They clutter the walls with taxidermy and weapons, but then leave so many platters piled with sweet rolls and honey-nut treats lying about everywhere. What is this, Uncle Bad-Ass' Man Cave or Granny's Candy Shop? I don't know, you tell me. I don't know whether I'm having a night out with the guys or I'm at a bake sale? You know what I mean, buddy?" Faendal chuckled to Alec, nudging him playfully.

Alec gulped and pointed nervously at a space above his friend's shoulder, "Uh, Faendal..."

"What is it?" he said, still smiling as he turned around.

As soon as he did, the scrawny elf found himself face to face with a big, one-eyed man staring him down. The man huffed and puffed, red in the face, as though he was moments away from a violent episode.

"_Damn_, you're a big one!" Faendal whispered fearfully.

"_What?!_ You don't like my decor?!" the man boomed.

Faendal sputtered. "No! No, that's not what I meant at-"

Faendal was silenced when the fist of the man made powerful contact with the elf's face.

~|*O*|~

"Oh, my gosh, Faendal- it's Vilkas! _It's Vilkas_, look!"

"Huh?" Faendal said slowly as he looked around. He was still a little dizzy after getting hit and nursed his eye with an apple half he had found on a table.

"Okay, dude," Alec said. "Stay calm, this is just a normal day. Let's be cool about this."

Alec ran down the hall and into the room where he had spotted his idol through an opened door.

"I am your biggest fan!" he squeed.

Vilkas turned to the older man besides him, "I thought we stopped letting tourists in a week ago."

The older man shrugged.

"Hearing about the time you took out that flock of deer with your bare hands changed my life and inspired me to become a military grade chef!" Alec went on babbling. "I know all of your stories! I know all your favorite books and foods and weapons and all the ways you've styled your hair over the past few years..."

"Didn't he mean, 'herd'?" Kodlak asked Vilkas.

When a nasty stare was all the man received from Vilkas, he rolled his eyes and groaned.

"I'll take care of this," the old man said as Alec kept rambling. Vilkas grunted in acknowledgement and began to idly examine his finger nails.

"Young man," he said, getting the attention of Alec who tore his gaze away from Vilkas.

"Hi," Alec smiled.

"Hello. I would be Kodlak. And you are?"

"I'm Alec."

"And I'm Faendal," the elf said, finally hobbling in.

Kodlak sighed irritably, "Yeah. Just let me deal with you people one at a time, alright?

"Now, why are you here, kid? And I meant the kid, not the... greying elf-guy."

"He's clearly lost." Vilkas muttered.

Alec paused, blinking. That awful feeling he often got starting to creep up on him.

"I'm here to join the Companions." he whispered, looking suddenly like a seriously psychologically disturbed individual.

"Ah. And why exactly do you want to join?"

"I don't know." It was the truth and that was precisely why it was a problem.

Alec shuddered.

Lately, he had been catching himself doing things while not knowing why he did them. It was alarming to poor Alec. Whenever it happened, he would have the upsetting suspicion that someone was watching him and that, whoever that someone happened to be, was controlling him too. He knew it wasn't right or normal to think these things, and visiting the city's apothecary to talk about it had crossed his mind, but he thought it better to hold it off for the time being while on his way to Jorvaskr. While ascending the stairs he understood that Whiterun probably had its hands all tied-up dealing with the one mental case it had already.

Of course Alec loved the Companions, but he would never have even considered joining them. He'd get squashed on his first day- if they didn't fire him! But it seemed he wasn't going to be given much say in the matter.

"... To become a mercenary, you mean?" Kodlak put in.

Alec snapped back to reality. "Yeah, that's it!"

Vilkas scoffed.

"And what about you?"

"_Me?_" Faendal pointed to himself.

"Yes."

"I'm here to look after him. We're bros."

"How touching." Vilkas said as he rolled his eyes.

"So you're not trying to join?" Kodlak asked.

Faendal squinted his eyes thoughtfully. "Hmm. Not that I'm aware of."

Kodlak took a good long moment to stare at the elf before shaking his head and dramatically blinking.

He turned to Vilkas. "Can you take this whelp outside and test his abilities?"

"Yeah. See as much as I'd love to; I'm scheduled to make an appearance at the Woman's Association of Vilkas Fans meet in an hour and, more importantly, just don't give a fuck."

Kodlak groaned and turned to Alec. "Alright, you're in."

"_What?!_" Vilkas cried out, looking up from his fingernails.

"I'm in, Faendal. I'm in!" Alec cheered as he skipped about.

He skipped over to Vilkas.

"We're sheild-brothers now, Vilkas! Oh, my _melon-baller!_ I'm Vilkas' sheild-brother! I wonder where I'll be sleeping? Hey, Vil-"

Before Alec could ask Vilkas if they could bunk together, Kodlak had answered him.

"Down the hall, second left."

Alec dashed out of the room, grinning ear to ear.

Vilkas was exasperated. He threw his arms up, looking at his Harbinger. "You can't be serious, Kodlak!"

"Oh, I am serious. And by the way, it's 'master'. We've been over this before."

"But- but that was not even a warrior! That was a beanpole- _with eyes!_"

"Don't be so harsh, Vilkas. He had hair too."

Vilkas got up to follow Kodlak as he made his way to his quarters.

"That boy is an insult to the Companions and everything we've ever stood for! Everything about that pippy little shimp bugs the hell out of me!"

Kodlak turned to Vilkas, and looked him dead in the eyes. "Walk it off," he answered sharply, before he shut the door to his room.

Faendal, who had been standing there all along nursing his eye, whistled.

"_Well!_ Somebody needs to lay off the haterade."

Vilkas didn't even bother taking his eyes off the Harbinger's door when he slammed his fist into the elf's face.

* * *

_Special thanks to my beta, **timeywimeyspaceywacey**, for all her help!_

_Thanks to everyone for their favs, follows, and reviews! Reviews mean so much to me and never fail to make my day!_

_Thanks for reading and **please review!**_


	9. Chapter 8: The Other Twin

_**Disclaimer:** Being that this site is specifically for fan fiction, there is an automatic disclaimer to everything we write. But since this concerns people who actually exist, I just want to make it extra clear: I am not attempting to state or imply anything negative about Bethesda or Todd Howard or how they go about abusing their employees. I made this all up!_

* * *

Everybody said Vilkas was the twin with all the brains, and that Farkas was the one with all the brawn. It was somewhat true, Farkas definitely was strong and intimidating in size. But anyone with half a brain could have realized that such was the case for Vilkas.

Despite Farkas' intimidating size, that only went so far. He was not much of a warrior. He swung a sword as though it was a club and every now and then, quite delicately and nervously, as though he expected it to turn into a snake at any moment. Vilkas, on the other hand, was totally at ease with a sword and was exceptionally skilled with all forms of weaponry. When comparing the two, Vilkas' refinement made Farkas' brute strength entirely obsolete. In fact, you'd be wrong to call Farkas a warrior at all. Unless you snapped your fingers in his face and yelled in his ear, he would often not be aware of when it was his cue to draw his sword, such as, say, a bear charging at him. He even took a scratch like it was fatal wound.

The reason for Farkas' unfortunate state remained a mystery, but everything about his life in Jorvaskr was a carefully wrapped lie to protect his delicate self-esteem.

Once Vilkas had picked up a lute around age twelve, he had showed early talent with it, dazzling everyone with his renditions and small compositions. So when Vilkas got an instrument, of course Farkas was going to want one, too. The lute was placed in his room afterwards, where it sat untouched for years at a time. But Farkas had it, and that alone was enough to convince him that he was a musician. One as good as his brother, even.

It didn't take much to convince him of other lies, either.

Worried that his brother's army of fawning admirers and fans might make Farkas jealous or insecure, the other Circle members made sure to shower him with frequent compliments having to do with how much of a nice guy he was. It didn't take long for Farkas to realize how right they were, and he had a bar placed in his room so he could entertain guests he never had. Luckily, this went by him as well.

Not even his impressive muscle mass were of any help in winning Farkas the attention of girls. Apparently, the nice-guy thing wasn't as attractive as it use to be and, over the past few years, the "dark, brooding, mysterious jerk" had grown in popularity- another win for Vilkas.

~|*O*|~

Truth be told, there was a force which was responsible for Farkas that not the Circle nor all the priests and mystics in Tamriel knew of. Not even the Gods or Deadric Princes had any suspicion about this mysterious and powerful force.

This force was called Bethesda.

But about the story of Farkas' creation.

It had been either a dark and stormy night or a warm, balmy day when it happened. Which ever it was is really irrelevant because this all took place in some little top-secret base, called a studio, where hundreds of animators and designers (or as they were known in the industry, "slaves") were holed up in the ground by pieces of legal documents. There was only one way that any could ever know if they ever happened upon this tear in the universe: there was a rumored welcome mat in the entrance which read, "Welcome to Hell."

In this studio was a man named Steve. Steve had been having a long and sad day of encoding NPC skill sets. He had just finished giving the one they called 'Faendal' his capabilities when he had moved onto Farkas. Earlier that day; Scott, Steve's friend, had been impaled with a fishing hook by a gorilla who liked yelling a lot named Todd. Todd was one scary gorilla, but he had good reason for putting a fishing hook in Scott. Scott had the audacity to actually put 7,000 steps within the "7,000 steps" on the way to High Hrothgar. The nerve! Scott had really deserved worse for his crime. Luckily for him, though, labor laws protected him from all forms of abuse. That is, all forms excluding fishhooks; a loop-hole Todd was all too happy to exploit.

Steve and the other workers had been getting sick of the abusive hours and punishments inflicted by Todd. With each day, word of rebellion grew louder and louder around the offices. Today was that day. Steve was gonna' start some real shit.

He set upon endowing Farkas with his gifts. He made all his combat skills weak and piled everything into blacksmithing, pickpocketing, whatever he was going to be restrained from using. What else could he do? Well, Farkas did use a greatsword and heavy armor. Just dump what little strengths you give him into one-handed weaponry and light armor! Yes, yes! Then cap off his leveling at level fifty. Oh, and give Vilkas enormous skill in two-handed weaponry even though he carries a sword and shield! That way, we can make Farkas' identity as the stronger twin make no sense at all! Hit _Enter_.

And the official declaration was written.

It was not until the game was released that Steve's treason was discovered. Nine days later, his body was found face down in a ravine with a fishing hook impaled in the back of his head.

* * *

_Yeah, like I said. Made it all up. Pretty sure that I assigned jobs to Scott Franke and Steve Meister that weren't their responsibility. Todd Howard is not a gorilla and I'm quite sure he has no right to punish his employees with fishhooks._

_Anyways, have any of you ever noticed how Farkas kind of got the short end of things? Vilkas is clearly the more popular twin on this site, whether he is the love-interest or something other. In "Follow Me", a helpful little follower series created by **machinimarealm** (found on his youtube channel), Farkas is given a 2/10 while Vilkas is given an 8. And Vilkas could have gotten a 9 or 10 if it weren't for certain factors dealing mostly with the inconveniences in acquiring him. That poor guy, Farkas._

_Special thanks to my beta, **timeywimeyspaceywacey**, for all her help!_

_Thanks to everyone for their favs, follows, and reviews! Reviews mean so much to me and never fail to make my day!_

_Thanks for reading and **please review!**_


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